House, DR
by Siete Meichan
Summary: A oneshot crossover between House and Eragon. What would happen if brom were House? Rated for House's pill addiction.


**A/N: Hey. This is my first attempt at anything having to do with House or Eragon. I got this idea after seeing the movie. Brom reminds me a lot of doctor House. This is based on the MOVIE not the BOOK (although I did read it), as it's been a while. Hope I've done good. Not meant to be taken seriously, just here for fun. The D.R. in the title stands for Dragon Rider. The M.D. in the actual title is Medical Doctor (I think), so I was going along with the pattern.**

Disclaimer: I _do not_ own **Eragon** or **House, M.D.**

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**"Better to ask forgiveness than permission," Brom told the other men at the bar when they told him to shut up. He didn't really mind if the soldiers arrested him, or even if they killed him. Might stir up the town a bit. Goddness knew how boring the small village was. Nothing compared to his old times back when he was still a Rider... 

"Leave him be," Eragon told the soldiers who were roughly handling Brom, trying to get him out of the bar. He moved over to sit nearer to the older man. "I want to hear the rest of his story,"

"Foolish boy. He's no good, full of hogwash he is," one of the soldiers replied nastily, but left anyways. It became dark not long after the soldiers left, and soon everyone had gone home, even Eragon. However, after a while, the gnawing curiosity was driving him nuts. Unable to take it, he headed to Brom's house. Eragon wanted to know more about the time of the Dragon Riders. About dragons. About Saphira.

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"Hello?" he called, walking into the house. He'd knocked, of course, but no one had answered so he had let himself in. He wandered aimlessly for a few moments, before fingering a book written in a language that he could not understand.

"What are you doing in here, boy?" came Brom's voice as the older man shuffled out from the back room. He was leaning lightly on a cane that he didn't seem to need, even though he limped.

"I just...I wanted to know more about the dragons, sir," Eragon stumbled. This man, with his biting sarcasm and aloof attitude was not someone to fool around with, Eragon knew. No one else in the village had noticed it, but every time that someone had commited an offence against the older man, something always seemed to come up and bit the other person in the butt. Often quite literally.

"Why would you want to know about something like that? Dragons are big creatures with wings who fly and breathe fire. What more is there to know?" Brom sneered, trying to usher the young boy out of his house. He really didn't like it when someone messed around in his house without even asking for permission to enter. Not that he hadn't done the same thing to others before, but this was HIS house.

"I mean, what do they look like? How old to they have to be to fly? To breathe fire?" Eragon rushed his question, trying to get it out before he was forcibly thrown out of the small house.

"How would I know? I'm just the village fool," Brom slammed the door shut in Eragon's face. The boy pounded on the door for a few minutes before going home. In all actuality, the kid intruiged him. Like he knew something more than he was telling. As though...he had a dragon of his own. Brom looked at the door, wondering if he should have thrown the boy out instead of questioning him, but then shrugged it off. "Annoying little buggers," he muttered, thinking about kids in general.

Brom looked at the pile of items in his front room. All sorts of things helped to compose it, so the long, cloth-wrapped package at the top didn't stand out. He lifted up the cloth from one side, and grasped the contents. A handle. He pulled, and a crimson blade followed the handle out of the cloth. When it was all out, he held it up to the light. It looked like blood. Hard, crimson, yet it seemed to flow. Like it had a pulse. Or a heart.

The old man gave a cynical chuckle and sheathed the sword. He set it back atop the pile, pushing it away along with his thoughts and his memories of the past. He stuck a hand in his pocket and pulled out a few bean-sized items. He popped them into his mouth, tilting his head back sligtly and mumbling something about having to 'get some more Vicodin' as he hobbled off to his room.


End file.
